


Nothing but the Taste of Stale Beer and Bar Stools Between Them

by Calacious



Category: Zoo (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drinking, F/M, Kissing, Yuletide Treat, mood piece
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 03:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5523497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Calacious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitch and Jamie meet at the bar. She's late. He doesn't mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing but the Taste of Stale Beer and Bar Stools Between Them

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyoneill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/gifts).



> In response to this portion of your request: "Them just sitting around drinking (which they do a lot on the show)"
> 
> I hope this does not disappoint.

[](http://tinypic.com?ref=15fsyfd)

Mitch takes a sip of his beer, rolls the sweating bottle between his palms, and smiles when he catches a glimpse of Jamie pushing in through the doors.

She's late, her hair's down, cascading around her shoulders in complete disarray. Her cheeks are flushed pink; lips slightly parted, colored a natural blush of red that Mitch finds intriguing. 

Hell, he finds the whole package intriguing. Long legs, curvaceous body. An easy, teasing smile that, nowadays, is hard to coax out of her, but he's game to try.

"You're late," he says, motioning at the stool next to him. Watches the way she hitches her skirt, the angle of her knees as she shifts into place on the stool, calves aglow in the dim lighting of the bar. 

He nods to the bartender, and a beer is placed in front of Jamie almost as if by magic, square, cardboard coaster beneath it bearing the image of a large busted woman falling out of a top that's too tight for her, fishnet leggings and full pouty lips. It's one of the things that he loves about this place. The ambiance.

"Sorry, I --"

He waves off her apology, and lifts his own beer, presses it to his lips and waits until she does the same. It's a kind of symbiosis. This shared act of drinking. 

They'll get to the harder stuff later. Liquor that burns its way down the throat, warms the belly. The stuff that's hard to swallow, like talk of what's happened since they first met. Death and betrayal. Violence. The saving of lives. A pair of unlikely heroes in a world that doesn’t see them in that light, and never will. 

For now, though, they'll share this quiet drink. Forget about the rest of the world. Lose themselves in the bitter, smooth taste of beer that comes in a bottle that they can roll between their fingers. 

Several long swigs later, beer almost gone, and Mitch can see the tension ebbing from her shoulders, and he smiles. Her answering smile comes easier than it had before, than when they'd first met, and she’d been all hard, unforgiving ideals, and he’d been little more than an angry, bitter man. He still is angry and bitter, but there’s more to him now. There’s Jamie. 

He leans in close, lets his lips linger just over hers, closes his eyes, breathes in the scent of wild strawberries and vanilla, runs his fingers through her hair, mussing it up, reveling in the silky feel of it, the way that his fingers catch at a tangle and she leans into the touch, breath hitching on a moaned, “Mitch.” 

It's when he can sense that she's closed her eyes, too, that he presses his lips to hers, warm and soft, stomach clenching at the way her lips part, the way she gives when he takes, and then reciprocates, taking what he's willing to give, which is more than he’s ever given anyone else.

They're both greedy, both hesitant and unsure; needy and vulnerable, and messed up versions of the people that they once were. People they've never actually met, because they hadn't met until after they'd become these messed up individuals that they are now. That they'll probably always be. 

And he loves this -- kissing a girl like Jamie -- as much as he hates what his life has become. He was a teacher. Respected in the field of science. Was a man on the verge of breaking. Still is, in many respects. 

Perhaps that's why they find comfort in each other (because they’re both broken people). Comfort in this simple, lonely act of kissing in a rundown bar on the outskirts of town, nothing but the taste of stale beer, and bar stools between them. 


End file.
